


Conversation in Wakanda

by Niitza



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dora Milaje - Freeform, Gen, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6968254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niitza/pseuds/Niitza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”</p>
<p>“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”</p>
<p>He sounds and looks utterly delighted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conversation in Wakanda

T’Challa feels and always has felt the deepest admiration and respect for the Dora Milaje.

One of his earliest memories is of them, actually. In that blurry glimpse he is sitting on the floor in his father’s office, playing quietly because as long as he is quiet he is allowed to stay. His father might not be paying him a lot of attention--he is the king, and the king is working--, yet T’Challa basks in his presence. He loves his father, and he loves this room as an extension of him, of these moments spent in companionable silence. Everything, the thick carpet, the plush seats, the smooth lines of the ebony desk, the long curve of the carved ivory tusk on the shelf, the intricacies of the small vibranium statue resting in its glass case underneath, all of it feels warm, familiar. Reassuring.

And then suddenly they are here, entering the office, he doesn’t remember why: two women, tall, calm, their movements measured, their voices low--yet everything about them speaks of strength, of power. From his position on the ground, toys forgotten, T’Challa looks up--and up and up and up.

He is fascinated.

He has other memories, of course, countless memories of them. Throughout his childhood they were there, a daunting presence at the edge of his world, linked to his father in an inexplicable way--until he grew up, until he was old enough to leave the palace on his own and suddenly it was him, specifically, whom they accompanied; and later still, when he started his training to one day pick up the mantle of the Black Panther and he really--finally--got to understand what it was that his infant mind had known to respect and fear from the instant he saw them.

To this day, he knows himself to be inferior to them, knows that the obligations of a prince--now a king--have kept and will keep him too busy to ever aspire to their level of discipline, of mastery, of art. He knows that no matter how much progress he’s made, no matter how worthy he’s shown himself to be of the claws of the Panther, he is no match against any of them.

He accepts it. It is still challenging, makes him strive to constantly better himself. It is a comfort, too. Like his father’s love and greatness once were.

 

*

 

He does know, though, that not all people--not all men--share his esteem for the Dora Milaje. Especially not those who are not familiar with Wakanda’s culture and traditions.

Which is why, when he enquires about Steve Rogers’ whereabouts--his kingly duties have kept him busy and he hasn’t crossed path with his guest in several days--and hears that he’s somehow found himself at the Dora Milaje’s training grounds, his interest is... piqued. To say the least.

 

*

 

He has Captain Rogers invited to share his dinner with him. Ever since the Captain’s friend has gone back into the ice, T’Challa has been trying to keep an eye on his guest, as much as possible, and he will do so as long as the Captain stays in Wakanda.

He doesn’t seem to be planning his departure yet. T’Challa suspects that part of him has a hard time letting go of his friend; and the rest probably has no idea where to go, what to do.

In the meantime he rests. He roams through the palace, the gardens, he reads. He’s started going out to explore the capital, its museums, has gone to the library to borrow books on Wakandan culture and history. T’Challa lets him, treats him as he would a visiting friend. It is not difficult to do so: the Captain is worthy of respect, and rouses compassion, given what fate has dealt him. Beyond that, he is surprisingly likable.

Besides, with his mother away on her mourning retreat, T’Challa is all too often confronted to the absence of his father. Having the Captain sitting at his table is a welcome distraction.

 

*

 

When the man presents himself it is obvious that he is just out of a shower, hair damp and pale skin slightly flushed--despite his occasional trips outside of the palace he still has to acquire a tan. There is a bruise fading on his right cheek and his demeanor is looser than T’Challa has grown familiar with. Something in him seems to have unraveled, and in doing so to have released a strange kind of energy which still thrums through his limbs, glints at the bottom of his eyes.

“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says once they’ve sat down and their drinks have been poured.

He does want to know how he is to interpret the Captain’s current state. After all, few things are more revealing about a warrior, about a man, than his reaction to being bested--because no matter how good a fighter Captain Rogers is, T’Challa has little doubt that he has been.

He doesn’t expect the smile that blooms on the Captain’s face. It is, T’Challa realizes, the first time he’s seen such an expression on the man’s face. It is wide, and bright, and light.

“I did,” he says, and even his voice is different.

“May I ask how it went?”

“Well,” the Captain huffs, fingers curling around the stem of his glass. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”

He sounds and looks utterly delighted.

“You did?” T’Challa prompts, politely feigning the slightest amount of surprise.

“I did,” the Captain confirms readily. "It was amazing. I mean, _they_ are amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever met such good warriors.”

Warriors, he calls them, not women. T’Challa can’t hold back his smile.

(But then, Captain Rogers had Natasha Romanov on his team, and they were obviously close; maybe he shouldn’t be surprised.)

“They’re ruthless and focused and marvelously skilled. It all reminded me so much of...” Abruptly the Captain trails off, his smile falters. But it doesn’t fade. Instead it is replaced by something quieter--sadder, maybe--as his gaze loses itself in a memory only he can see.

He doesn’t stay there though, visibly drags himself back to the present, to T’Challa. Their eyes meet. For a second he is silent, then his smile widens again at the corner of his mouth, becomes crooked. “Have you ever hear of Peggy Carter?” he asks.

“No,” T’Challa replies. “But something tells me I would like to.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cue to:
> 
> \- Steve and T'Challa gushing about Peggy and the Dora Milaje late into the night  
> \- Steve getting to talk about Peggy and start processing his loss & grief  
> \- Steve dropping by the Dora Milaje's training ground everytime he comes back to Wakanda, & being tolerated in, especially in the training sessions for younger apprentices because confronting them to a different fighting style (used by an American tank of a man) is good practice. He still gets his ass kicked, though.
> 
> Thanks for reading :) And [here is the tumblr post](http://princessniitza.tumblr.com/post/144924538116/ficlet-conversation-in-wakanda), if you would like to reblog it.


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